Roeckl Gloves: Truly Suprema?

I’m a glove addict: I admit it. It used to be part of my seasonal ritual to visit the local tack shop and peruse their latest collection of gloves. Over the years I’ve tried just about everything — Miller’s Good Hands, SSG, Neumann’s, traditional string, and Roeckl to name a few. When I was riding between seven and ten horses a day, I’d go through a pair of gloves every two to three months, so usually bought the classic SSG pigskin with knit back, or their full leather doe skin. When I recently trimmed down to one horse, I decided to make a “luxury” (or vanity, actually) purchase of cotton-candy pink Roeckl Suprema gloves with Swarovski accents. The gloves were (note the past tense) absolutely beautiful, and totally unlike my more workmanlike choices of years past. I particularly like the quilt detailing around the wrist and feel the crystal accents are subtly elegant. The material is quite thin, giving good tack and feel. However, my love affair stops there. After about three months of riding, the gloves’ pink color has peeled off the knuckles and other flex areas, and holes have started to wear through the rein fingers and across the palm. Maybe I’m expecting too much from a pair of gloves, but I really do think that for approximately $60.00, the Supremas should’ve lasted more than 12 weeks. After all, my Roeckl Chelseas are still going strong after — wait for it — ten years. That’s right . . . ten years of daily rides on lots and lots of horses. I know the Chelsea features a microsuede palm, and perhaps the fabric makes all the difference. But, seriously, the Suprema material isn’t that supreme. Ultimately it’s a very pretty vanity glove suitable for light or sporadic use. In my experience they don’t hold up to regular, daily wear. Save them for clinics or special occasions.

CU@X!

- Piaffe Girl

“Wither” Thou Goest

It’s been a rough ride: literally. After losing my FEI horse several years ago, and then my favorite mare to colic two years ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever find the right equine partner again. Although I currently have three horses, the one who shows up in all the Piaffe Girl photos is my eldest — a five year old Holsteiner (Lesanto x Montgomery) that I stumbled across on Craigslist in 2010. Although he can be difficult, complicated, spooky, studdish . . . blah.blah.blah . . . he quickly became my “heart horse.” As such, his quirks that annoy (and even frighten) others don’t really bother me all that much. I’ve come to terms with the fact that he will most likely always hate trees, birds, and dogs — and thus spook at them. Every single day. But that’s okay, because once I accepted him for what he is we reached a sort of agreement: he can spook in place, and he can’t run away. For us, it works.

Things had been progressing rather swimmingly in his training until about eight weeks ago when a horrible vaccine reaction left him feverish, convulsing, and in shock. For nearly two days straight I sat in (and later in front of) Deuce’s stall cradling his head, praying, crying, and begging the powers-that-be to just let him be okay. I didn’t care if he became a trail horse, I just wanted him healthy and whole again. The Almighty must’ve heard me because on the third day Deuce threw his head straight up in the air, gave a loud dragon-like snort, and came back to us. He started nibbling grass, drinking, and seemed brighter. After two weeks of hand-walking, Rood & Riddle gave the go-ahead for light riding.

Although I knew we couldn’t pick up where we’d left off, I was surprised when my normally forward horse refused to move under saddle. The vet checked his back, which was unusually sore, so we did Banamine, massage, several chiropractic sessions. Nothing worked. The saddle (which had been custom fitted) checked out. He had a clean bill of health — but the behaviour got worse. I went from relishing the daily progress of my young FEI prospect to worrying whether I could even get him to walk without a meltdown. Since there wasn’t anything physically wrong, I started to feel I was the problem, and that we just weren’t as good a fit as I imagined, so began thinking about sending him away for another trainer to ride and then sell.

However, I just couldn’t get over the nagging feeling that there was, despite professional advice to the contrary, a saddle fit issue — not in the gullet or tree, but over the withers. So I gave the boy another two weeks off, purchased a used Wintec Isabell off eBay, and crossed my fingers. Yesterday, new saddle in hand, I trekked out to the barn for a test ride. After some serious airs above ground on the longe, I took Deuce into the round pen, and quickly hopped up. For a brief moment I could feel him start to rear . . . and then he stopped. He took a tentative step forward, and then another, and another — and soon we were gently walking around the pen. I asked for a few trot strides, and again he thought about resisting, but relaxed and moved. Needless to say lots of peppermints and patting followed! Today, I took him into the main dressage arena and after an excellent warm-up on the longe, rode without issue. In fact, my lovely swinging horse of two months ago was back, and happy to work.

Although I greatly respect all the professionals that keep my team running, I’m glad I listened to my gut on this one and didn’t give up. Sometimes you just need a little luck and a lot of faith.

On fashion and common sense.

Le Doux stays fashionable while getting his monthly pedicure.

Fashion, and whether others notice our sartorial choices, has been a recent point of conversation among my friends and I. I’ve noticed that some people are particularly self-conscious — to the point of anxiety — about their dress, hair, and accessories. They feel they’re being judged on looks at the exclusion of everything else. This doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. In fact, my mother once gave me a great piece of advice; she said that people are too worried about their own issues to concern themselves with anyone else. Although there are always snarksters out there, I believe this is largely true. For example, I spent Saturday at the Nations Cup in Wellington, and although I can tell you about the conversations I had, and how people (and their horses) behaved, I cannot recall what anyone wore. I know it may seem hypocritical for me — as the writer for a dressage fashion blog — to say fashion doesn’t matter much. But that’s not really what I’m arguing. My point has always been that form follows function. In this case, it’s how you act that’s of primary importance; how you look is secondary. Ultimately, fashion is the olive in the martini . . . the slice of lime on the gin & tonic . . . the toupee on Donald Trump’s head. It caps things off. It cannot make you what you’re not.

Just as placing a cherry on top of a manure pile won’t trick people into thinking the pile is a sundae, neither will prancing around in tails and a topper convince people you’re an Olympian when you’ve never sat a horse. Again, form follows function. Solidify the basics, be the best “you” possible, and then dress beautifully to accentuate the skills you already have. Stop trying to be something and someone you’re not. No amount of fashion can make that kind of backwards attitude “pretty.”

CU@X!

- Piaffe Girl

Ten Things

Working with young and green horses through the decades has taught me a lot, and although I’m certainly thankful for the practical skills I’ve gained, I’m even more grateful for the the life-lessons they’ve unwittingly passed on to me. In a few hours, my oldest baby-greenie turns a whole five years old (!) and as I reminisced tonight over his growth — a little teary-eyed, truth-be-told — I realised that there were ten priceless things he and my other youngsters taught me:

1. Humility. It’s difficult to be prideful when you’re sitting in the dirt on your butt thanks to a series of unscheduled, and very athletic, airs-above-ground.

2. Humor. Sometimes all you can do is laugh about whatever situation you’re in.

3. Flexibility. Come to a young horse with a plan, and watch how quickly they’ll make you change it.

4. Flexibility. Working with babies sometimes requires a great deal of physical maneuvering — evasive and otherwise. Yoga helps.

5. Vision. Look at life as a series of potentialities! Not every rough rock produces a diamond . . . many of them produce sapphires, opals, emeralds, and all manner of things much more colorful and precious.

6. Kindness. Be kind to your fellow travelers on this mortal coil; we all need it — animal and human, alike.

7. Patience. We wait for them to be born, we wait for them to nurse, to walk, and to poo, we wait for them to learn to tie, lead, and be saddled …

8. Appreciation. Because mastering even the “simplest” skill can be a giant step forward in a young horse’s development.

9. Endurance. Even when things seem impossible, stick with it, they will get better.

10. Wonderment. Ever watch foals interact with their world? Everything is new, amazing, and wonderful in their eyes. I try to keep a bit of that wonderment with me everyday.

So that’s my ten things. What are yours? How have horses enriched your life? Feel free to share your list!

CU@X!

- Piaffe Girl

The State of the Sport: A Call to Action

It’s been quite a while since my last post (apologies to my readers), but attempting to balance a cross-country move, writing a dissertation, and my horse business got to be a bit much. Things have evened out a bit, and so I’m going to shows and generally being more engaged in the sport. That brings me to today’s topic — an S.O.S. (Save our Sport) about the serious, and seriously depressing state of dressage in America.

Pursuit of my PhD kept me out of showing for a few years, and so my recent foray back into the mix came as quite a shock. I actively competed from 1986 to about 2006, beginning on the hunter / jumper circuit, and transitioning to dressage in the early ’90s. At that time, even the smallest schooling shows were packed to the gills in every level from training through FEI. And the big shows at venues like the Kentucky Horse Park, Lamplight, etc were truly mammoth.

Flash-forward: Last year I attended some ostensibly big shows out west, including a regional championship, but what stood out to me most was the pitiful turnout. Many classes were lucky to have three entries, and the FEI ranks, if represented at all, usually had one. Heck, a friend from Holland trailered her young horses out to Del Mar, but returned without showing because the classes were empty!

This dearth of dressage influenced my move back east, and so it was with an eager heart that I awaited the start of the winter season this year. However, a friend and I attended the Gold Coast Opener in Wellington, and once again I noticed empty stalls and short class lists. Feeling bemused, I struck up a conversation with a saddler on the topic, and she mentioned that this was becoming a trend in the dressage world. Ever the optimist, I decided to blame the weather (it was a cold, rainy weekend) and determined to hit the Global Dressage Festival next. Sadly, the GDF proved to be more of the same. The saddler I’d previously met was at the GDF too, so we talked some more about the direction of American dressage, but weren’t able to come up with any positive solutions. A fellow horseperson suggested that perhaps it was a reflection of the general economic slump, but a lovely day watching the jumpers disproved that notion. Seriously — the hunter / jumper side (although slightly smaller than in the past) was fun, vibrant, and active. Going from the jumping to the dressage was like walking from a carnival in to a mausoleum. That’s a problem. Our sport isn’t just stagnating . . . it’s dying. No amount of sponsorship, “Western Dressage”, or Parelli theatrics is going to resuscitate it. You see: building interest in dressage cannot be a top down approach, no matter how much our governing body would like it to be. The problem isn’t spectators — it’s us, the riders, breeders, and trainers. We have lost interest in our own sport, as is painfully evident in the sheer number of people who choose to never move up the levels. Yes, I know that statement will raise some hackles, but when buyers purchase exceptional horses and continuously show them well below their proven level . . . that’s problematic. I won’t even get into the sportsmanship issue related to “competing” an upper-level horse at training level for several years in a row.

While I recognize that many riders compete for fun, I also believe that if American dressage is to thrive — let alone survive — we need to take drastic action. It is easy and “fun” to ride a horse below its capabilities and win lots of ribbons. As professionals, we know our clients want to win, and when they win, they keep paying us. Unfortunately, this can create a negative economic pressure. We need our clients and our sponsors, but we also need to balance the desire to placate with an honest and direct dialogue about the dedication, perseverance, and occasional sheer luck that influences success in any equine venture. Dressage is difficult, and not everyone can be a winner . . . but everyone wants to be. We’ve commodified winning, and made the measure of success a thirty cent strip of blue satin. We must — must — shift the focus of success away from the ribbon and back onto the process. Until we can become actively invested in our own, individual, and incremental improvement, our sport will continue to die.

Join the SOS! Please help save our sport.

CU@X (hopefully)

- Piaffe Girl 

Dressage Apologetics — Or the Art of Being Proffy

Many years ago, when I was still a youngster in jods, I came across an article in Horse Illustrated or Practical Horseman about a woman who went to Europe as a working student for a well-known dressage trainer (whose name I can’t recall). At that time in my history, I was blithely packing around the hunt course and Pony Club meetings on my little Welsh pony, “Rowdy” — my only knowledge of dressage limited to the vague bits and pieces I needed to succeed at rallies and improve my flatwork. Prior to that I’d witnessed my instructor, a dressage rider and combined driver, hop up on one of the ugliest mares I’d ever seen and in a split second transform her into an elegant, free-moving beauty. While I was certainly amazed, jumping remained my one true love for many years to come. So… what do these two things — the article and my old instructor have in common? The art of being proffy.

In the magazine article, the trainer constantly stressed one thing to his student: whatever happens (rain, snow, sudden green-colt insanity, a carousel starting just as you begin your march down center line, an unscheduled dismount) — “it doesn’t matter; carry on.” Spill coffee on your white show breeches before your class? “It doesn’t matter; carry on.” Miscount your tempi changes? “It doesn’t matter; carry on.” Whatever has happened in the past no longer matters. Being professional, or proffy as he called it, means that no matter what the circumstances, you ride your next stride and work with what you’ve got.

My old instructor exemplified this attitude. She grew up immersed in dressage as a cavalry officer’s daughter, and learned from the best, gaining her riding medals in Germany, and later working with Major General Jonathan R Burton, then Major Hector Carmona in the States. However, unable to afford finely bred and trained animals, she re-schooled race-track rejects, farm horses, slaughter-house rescues,  her one “prize” being a mean-as-sin Hannoverian that she rode in a side-saddle Grand Prix dressage exhibition at the Pan American Games. Again, begin proffy means taking what you’re dealt, and making it work.

The mainstream media has recently been making much of dressage’s snooty reputation. While dressage can be an expensive sport (like any sport, frankly), many of its devotees are average people of average means who make personal and financial sacrifices to engage in something they enjoy. Just because someone takes pride in their horse, their equipment, and their sport doesn’t make them snobbish, it makes them proffy. You see, being proffy isn’t about having the finest horses and wearing the best clothes: it’s about grooming your rescued, rehabbed horse-of-no-breed until he gleams, then putting on your polished, 15 year old boots and hand-me-down breeches, tucking in your thrift-shop polo shirt and riding … the best you can every time. Being proffy isn’t about “stuff” — it’s about having the grit to work as hard as possible so that you can be a credit to your horse, regardless of his breed, brand, and (your) bank account. And frankly, that’s the whole essence of dressage.

CU@X!

- Piaffe Girl

Product Review — Derby Boots

Derby “Safety” dressage boots in black alligator. Tansy Cat not included.

Last year I decided to splurge on a new pair of schooling boots; my beloved, eighteen year old Petries weren’t up to snuff any longer. For shows, I have a pair of custom Dehners , and although I’m happy with them, I thought I’d go with something different for daily wear. After some serious tack store and catalogue shopping where I tried everything from Ariats to Vogels, I began to get frustrated. I’ve got a very high arch, small ankles, and a long leg – and I wasn’t able to find anything off the rack that fit well. Just as I was about ready to give up and sacrifice my Dehners to the schooling gods, I stumbled across a Wellington saddler carrying a Dutch brand called Derby. Although unfamiliar with that particular boot maker, their offerings looked nice so I thought I’d give ‘em a go.

A couple of weeks later, my new boots arrived. After some deliberation, I’d chosen an alligator skin, front-zip dressage boot from Derby’s “Safety” line. The “Safety” boots come with steel toes and a reinforced (no-slip) Goodyear rubber sole. For me, this is ideal because I’ve got a couple of BIG young Holsteiners who aren’t terribly cautious about where they put their feet. Since getting the boots, I’ve been stepped on a few times, and haven’t felt a thing!

I went with alligator rather than calfskin or the traditional cow hide because I wanted something durable and unique – but still elegant – that had a short break-in period. Both my Dehners and my Petries took simply ages to soften up, and since all my horses are youngsters, I didn’t want to risk my leg lacking feel or flexibility if I needed to make any “evasive maneuvers” when riding. Luckily for me, the Derby boots felt soft and broken-in right out of the box. The only issue I encountered was some heel rubbing. I’ve since changed from nylon to cotton boot socks, and have added a moleskin heel pad to the inside of the right boot. So far, that seems to have fixed the problem.

My biggest complaint regarding this particular pair of boots has to do with durability. After only a year or so of regular, daily use, the inside calf has begun to wear through. I suspect, although I’m not certain, that this has more to do with my material choice than with the quality of the boot. When I ordered them, I assumed alligator would wear better than cow hide . . . which it hasn’t. However, with a price point of close to $1000, I would expect some sort of reinforcement through the calf to offset the hide’s softness.

Other than that one issue, the boots have continued to hold up – including the zippers, which can often start to stick or wear after a time. In addition, they fit exceptionally well, and have the high French tops, and tapered ankles that I need. Although I probably wouldn’t pay this much for another pair of schooling / clinic boots in the future, I would order from Derby for unique show boots: their patent leather options and exotic skins (stingray, gator, and ostrich anyone?) are absolutely gorgeous.

You can visit their Website here: http://www.derby.nl/index.php/en/
Be forewarned: The site isn’t particularly well-written, and it reads as if they used Google Translate when composing the text.

CU@X!

- Piaffe Girl